Honolulu Star-Advertiser © Susan Scott
June 10, 1996
WHEN Sherman’s Lagoon first appeared in the Star-Bulletin, the editor responsible for the comics page said to me, “Have you seen Sherman’s Lagoon?”
“I have,” I said.
“And?”
“How can you even ask? You know I love it.”
He smiled. He knew he’d scored a hit.
For those who don’t follow the intellectual section of the paper, Sherman is a sensitive fish of the ’90s, a lazy, lovable loafer. Sherman also happens to be a great white shark.
A great white with feelings? Well, why not?
I’ve never known a great white shark in real life, but I once knew, vaguely, a robust 15-foot tiger shark.
The opportunity came one day while I was riding in a slow-moving Boston whaler in a pristine Hawaii lagoon.
We spotted the dark, meandering shape and decided to take a look.
It was scary, and perhaps foolish, but irresistible.
I was the first to don mask and snorkel, then lean far over the side of the boat.
I clutched the rail for dear life while my companion nearly choked me to death gripping the neck of my T-shirt.
As the boat pulled alongside the shark, I dipped my face in the water.
I’ll always remember that moment.
The shark, so curious as to what was going on, that he looked almost puzzled, watched me as intently as I him.
The animal’s eye moved up, down, forward and back, checking me out. He seemed actually friendly.
In fact, for a tiger shark, he was downright gracious.
He stuck around long enough for each of the three of us to get a good look. Then, tiring of our silly game (and likely our silly faces), he took off.
Sherman reminds me of that shark and that moment. It’s a fond memory.
Still, neither Sherman nor his girlfriend Megan ranks as my favorite lagoon animal.
That honor goes to their buddy Fillmore, the sea turtle who wears jockey shorts under his shell and is perpetually searching for love.
This isn’t far from real life where love for a male sea turtle often means frustration.
I have heard of male sea turtles trying to mate with crude decoys, divers, other males and even rowboats.
The one time I saw a pair of sea turtles mating, they were on a beach. Since sea turtles always mate in the water, it was likely the tide had gone out on this pair and they simply hadn’t noticed.
I watched them for a long time, maybe an hour. This isn’t as interesting as it sounds because neither turtle moved a muscle the entire time.
Finally, the male slid off the female, then lay dreamily on the sand, completely oblivious of the gawking humans.
I keep hoping Fillmore will find such a willing girlfriend and have an equally fulfilling experience.
Also living in Sherman’s lagoon is Hawthorne, a hermit crab who has adopted a beer can for his shell.
I’ve never seen a real hermit crab in a beer can, but I did see one once in a Styrofoam cup.
I was walking though a jungle-edged beach on a South Pacific island when this battered white cup got up and started running.
I followed, stumbling over roots and through wet leaves.
When I finally cornered this cup-with-legs, it turned on me, showing its true self: a plucky, but terrified, hermit crab.
The crab raised its pincers in an admirable show of force. I felt bad that I had frightened it so. I named it Hawthorne and left it alone.
Sherman’s Lagoon provides an amusing look at the marine world I enjoy so much. In real life, that world is just as much fun.